


To Kiss or Not To Kiss, That is the Question

by alisha_winchester_collins



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Definitely AU, F/M, Gendry in Braavos, I don't know what else to tag this as, One Shot, Oops, Reunion Fic, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7074985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisha_winchester_collins/pseuds/alisha_winchester_collins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was inspired by the Buzzfeed article which practically speaks for all of us, where the heck is Gendry and why is he not back yet??? A Gendrya reunion fic! (Set between 6.07 and 6.08, be careful of spoilers!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Kiss or Not To Kiss, That is the Question

Fate. It was a word that had been used many times in many places by many people. Destiny was another word. Both similar in meaning and yet, to Arya Stark, neither of them had much importance. She didn’t know if she believed in fate or if she didn’t, she had never had the opportunity to think about it in detail; there were times when she wondered if her father dying at the hands of Joffrey had been fate and losing the rest of her family too… if so, then she decided that fate was a cruel and wicked thing. And then there were times when Arya wondered if her decision to come to Braavos was because she had the free will to make her own choices in life. Whether or not she believed in fate, there was one thing Arya was sure of now… Braavos was not the place for her, the House of Black and White was not where she belonged, being a Faceless Man was not what she was meant to do. She was not no one, she was not someone either, she was Arya Stark of Winterfell, and the time had come to return to Westeros.

If only things were that simple in life. She may have had Needle to feel like herself once more, but looking out towards the sea from where she stood, Arya was starting to realize that she didn’t really have a plan to get home. She had no money, which meant she could not get safe passage on a boat, she did not have food either, although that was something she could fix soon enough and the only clothes she possessed were what she wore now. Still, the sight of the Titan of Braavos and the calm waters that lay beyond it made her determined to try something. Anything. The sooner she left the better it would be; time was not on her side… she knew that leaving the Faceless Men was not possible and that feeling of her movements being watched meant something was about to happen. It was funny how the exact second she had that thought did Arya _sense_ someone behind her and she spun around from her spot on a random balcony to see the Waif standing there.

“Going somewhere girl?” The sneer on her face was enough for Arya to wish that she could punch it off, but the way the Waif held herself told her one thing. _Run._

“Seven hells.” Arya whispered under her breath; her heart was beating fast, the Waif wasn’t moving in for the kill yet, but she knew she had seconds.

Perhaps fate was a funny thing and liked to keep Arya on her toes. Always moving, always running. Even if she believed in fate, Arya was not the kind of person who would lay down her weapon and admit defeat. But Arya did not believe in fate. Or destiny. Or even the Gods at this point; whether the Old Gods of the New Gods or the Seven Gods, the only thing she did believe in was herself. She _was_ leaving Braavos. Alive.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you.” The Waif knew what Arya planned to do and was not disappointed. A good chase always made for a good kill afterward. She was the hunter and Arya was her prey.

It was strange or perhaps not so strange that in a moment like this, when her life was at stake and there was no where to go except down that Arya remembered her old sword master, Syrio Forel and the motto he drilled into her every day that she trained with him. _“What do we say to the God of Death?”_

“Not today.” She whispered and without wasting another second, she turned around and jumped over the ledge into the streets of Braavos below.

She plummeted several feet in a matter of seconds before crash-landing into one of the stalls, which cushioned her landing. People everywhere around her started to yell and shout and mutter as she picked herself up and continued running, knowing that the Waif was still following. She hadn’t thought things through, there was no time for a plan; but even so, Arya’s made their way through the marketplace, heading towards the docks. Hopefully. Over and under the stalls, the fishmongers, the children, she weaved her way further and further from the Waif, or so she thought. Before she could think of stopping to catch her breath, Arya felt a sharp flick across her cheek followed by a sting of pain and barely registered a dagger embedded in the wall that she ran past. Of course the Waif was throwing knives to slow her down, but Arya knew that there would be none aimed at her back, maybe at her feet next; she was to be incapacitated first and then killed.

“I will not die today.” That one thought became Arya’s motto as she picked up the pace and willed her legs to keep running, the docks were not that far away, she was going to make it. She had to.

The daggers kept coming her way at every few seconds of an interval. Once, Arya dared to glance over her shoulder to see how far away the Waif was; less than a hundred feet behind, getting closer and her aim getting more precise. A second dagger sliced her calf and Arya stumbled, almost falling… but when she managed to regain her footing, she knew that getting to the docks wasn’t going to be easy if she didn’t have a way to escape the Waif. This was Braavos, the city where Arya had spent enough time to learn the inner streets and alleyways she could duck into, not to hide, for surely the Waif knew the same pathways and would find her, but perhaps Arya did not need to hide. She now had a plan, of sorts, something which seemed impossible… fooling the Waif was impossible, but she had to try. Another glance behind told Arya that she could do it if she acted immediately; there were beggar kids playing in the middle of the roading, blocking the Waif’s line of sight, slowing her down _just enough_ for her plan to work. And so, she turned a sharp corner and slipped into a narrow alleyway, pausing to breathe. She touched the cuts on her cheek and leg, but managed not to wince which meant they were nothing more than nicks. Needle was still strapped to her waist. Her heart was hammering against her chest, her throat was dry and her legs were crying out from running, but Arya knew this was a momentary respite.

Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and slowly began to circle back towards the city; it was a dangerous risk, but Arya hoped that the Waif wouldn’t expect her to head in the opposite direction of the docks. Her senses were on high alert as she waited, waited for the Waif to find her, but minutes passed and the alley remained deserted. Just when she thought the worst was over, the minute Arya stepped outside, thinking of where to get food and water before she ran again, she bumped into something… or rather someone… who caught a hold of her hand.

 _“It’s him.”_ That’s the first thing she dreads; Jaqen H’ghar or the man who wears his face, has found her. And he is going to take her back to the House of Black and White where she will face punishment for failing her mission and trying to run.

“Arya?” The voice that speaks does not belong to Jaqen, it is familiar and filled with surprise. “Is that you?” Could it be someone she knows?

She had closed her eyes tight, not having the courage to face him, barely daring to breathe, but the voice. And the hand that holds her… it is callused and rough and warm and known. Arya takes in a breath and opens her eyes, looks up and finds herself staring into blue eyes that she would recognize anywhere.

“Gendry.” His name is mixed with a gasp of relief and confusion and wonder all at once. It _is_ him.

The tall, black haired, blue eyed friend Arya has known since the day she left King’s Landing. Gendry. He’s here. In Braavos. Now. There’s a hundred different thoughts and questions she has to ask him, there’s a need to suddenly hug him, to make sure that he’s real, but as always, there is no time. Standing in the street, Arya is quick enough to notice the reflection in one of the giant mirrors on display right beside them. The Waif has found her. Acting on instinct, Arya pushes Gendry to the cobblestones and falls right on top of him, the dagger whizzing past their heads a second later.  

“Arya? What was that?” It seems that he hasn’t gotten over the shock of seeing her either, but the chance to exchange stories will have to wait.

“We need to run.” Arya says to him, completely unaware of Gendry’s arms on her back and how close they are.

In an instant, she rolls off and stays low, finding cover behind a stall and beckoning for him to do the same. She can see the Waif now. Angry and determined as ever to kill her. And now Gendry too. Arya cannot let that happen.

“I have a boat.” Gendry says as a matter of fact, his eyes focused completely on her. “And supplies.” He adds as an afterthought. Whatever is going on with Arya, he doesn’t question it and offers a way to help.

Hearing those words, Arya turns her attention to stare at him and for a second she thinks that she could kiss him. A boat is exactly what they need; but then there’s shouts as people are being shoved and Arya decides that a kiss can wait. Right now she and Gendry have to get to his boat.

“On my count, we run for the boat okay?” She tells him. The Waif is nearer now. Too near.

“We’re going to have to go through her.” Gendry states the obvious. He has seen her and knows this is what they’re running from.

“I know.” Arya had come to that realization a little late, but it is true. The Waif is the one thing standing between her and her way out.

“Arya. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” She couldn’t help but smile at Gendry’s concern for her; reunited for all of five minutes and he was still the same.

“It’s the only way. You get to the boat and I…” But whatever Arya was going to say next, she didn’t get to say because Gendry interrupted her.

“No. We go together. I’m not leaving without you.” Concerned and stubborn as always. That’s the Gendry she knows.

“I’ll be there. _Go_.” Arya would have rolled her eyes at him but first she had to deal with the Waif once and for all.

Standing up straight, her hand on Needle, Arya watched as Gendry moved through the stalls and people without getting so much as a glance in his direction from the Waif. She had no daggers, just her long fighting stick. Lucky for Arya, there was a long pole lying nearby for her to grab and walked towards the Waif. If she was going to have to fight her in order to be free, then so be it.

“Are you going to fight me girl?” The Waif stopped a few feet away from Arya, smirking as the crowds parted. “You’re going to lose and then you will die.”

“I’m going to win and I’m going to leave.” Arya held her chin up high; she knew how to fight, it was no longer just training to be nobody, she was a water dancer and she was not going to die.

This time, Arya did not have to make the first move; the Waif had finished the game of chasing her through the streets of Braavos and was ready to strike. And so it began. Both the sticks clashing against each other, along with jumping and dodging, circling around the other for a few seconds. Arya did manage to land a few blows this time, but the Waif was not going to give up that easily. She avoided the stick swiping at her feet but did not see the elbow until it had smacked into her nose hard enough that Arya fell and landed on her back, with the stick now pointing at her chin.

“You failed your mission and you tried to leave without facing your punishment. The price of that is death.” The Waif had her pinned down. It was over.

But fate, or whatever it may be, had other plans for Arya. In the seconds that passed as she struggled to catch her breath, waiting for the killing blow, she could only think of Gendry and how she had found him after so long only to lose him again. She did not know if she believed in any Gods, but she prayed that he would leave and be safe. And then, just as the waif began to un-sheath the dagger, there was a loud shout.

“Arya! Shut your eyes!” It was Gendry. He had come back. And before Arya could decide whether or not she was going to smack him over the head for not listening to her or kiss him for returning, she closed her eyes.

What happened next occurred so fast that Arya barely had time to react, but as soon as Gendry had shouted out the warning, the Waif girl made the mistake of looking up. There was a small crackling noise as something landed on the street between them and suddenly everything went blinding white. Arya began to cough as smoke filled the air around her, but in a heartbeat, she had knocked aside the stick and jumped up on her feet, running away, towards where Gendry stood. The distraction had caused a commotion amongst the people who had been watching the fight, but that was just the beginning.

“I thought I told you to leave.” Arya wheezed as she found her hand being grabbed by Gendry’s and broke into a run.

“And I told you that I wasn’t leaving without you.” Gendry said to her with a grin. “Don’t thank me just yet, _that_ was not my idea.” It was then did Arya see another familiar face at the far end of the street.

“Lady Crane.” The actress she had chosen to save.

“You saved my life and I have returned the favor. The debt has been paid.” She said to Arya with a warm smile. “Go with your friend; I will give you as much time as you need to leave Braavos.”

“But…” Arya didn’t know what to say. Thanking her seemed… less, but it was all she had. “Thank you.”

“The boat’s waiting for us just beyond this street.” Gendry had come back for her. He had helped save her.

Within minutes, Arya found herself running past the ships and the travelers and the shouts of sellers who went on with their routine, not knowing or caring about anything else. And then they were there. At the farthest end of the docks, Gendry finally slowed down and let go of Arya’s hand, as if just realizing that he hadn’t until that moment. For her part, Arya couldn’t help but stare… dumbfounded as she recognized the boat that Gendry had mentioned.

“You’re joking right?” She said at last, pointing to the small rowboat that was tied up and bobbing on the water.

“It’s all we’ve got Arya, there’s no time to argue about this.” Gendry had left a leather bag of supplies at the edge and now placed it on the boat.

“That… that thing isn’t going to get us anywhere!” Maybe she _was_ going to smack him over the head instead of kissing him.

“It got me here.” He said to her pointedly.

“And how long exactly did that take you?” Arya asked, wondering how in the seven hells they were going to make it across the _sea_ in a rowboat.

However, Gendry didn’t get the chance to retort back for he and Arya both heard panicked shouts coming their way. The Waif had already recovered from Lady Crane’s distraction. They had to leave now.

“Get in, I’ll cut the rope.” She said. This was their only way out of Braavos and she was taking it.

This time he knew better than to argue with her. As quickly as they could, Gendry and Arya stepped into the boat carefully, making sure it didn’t tip over. Whatever was happening at the docks, neither one could see; and as Arya removed Needle and cut through the rope that anchored the boat, she hoped that Lady Crane had survived. As soon as she sat down, Gendry did not waste time and immediately began to row as fast as he could. They didn’t get very far for within a few seconds of having left, Arya turned around to see the Waif standing where she had just been and ducked her head in time to avoid the last dagger that landed in the middle of the rowboat, on the seat between her and Gendry.

“That was close.” She didn’t need to tell him to pick up the speed; he already was doing so.

“Would you look at that, I knew there was something I’d forgotten to buy - a decent knife.” Gendry commented casually as he kept rowing, getting closer to the Titan of Braavos.

At that, Arya almost laughed out loud; she did manage a smile, but her nerves were still on edge and her body was starting to feel all the blows she had taken. She couldn’t quite believe that she was finally out. On her way from Braavos. With Gendry by her side no less. And now that she had time to think about it, she wondered if fate had brought him here to her at the very moment she needed him. Or had it been a coincidence that he was at the same place at the same time?

“So… where to now?” He asked her, breaking the calm silence that had settled between them once they had passed through the Titan and into the open sea.

“King’s Landing.” Arya said in answer, knowing that it was the first place she had to get to before her journey took her North; she didn’t know where the rest of her family was, but she was going to find out.

“As milady commands.” Gendry echoes his words from long ago, a lifetime seems to have passed since then, but Arya knew that he was teasing her.

“I thought I told you not to call me that.” The smile hasn’t left her face but she is determined to change his mind.

“What do I call you then?” He asks, as if he has not used her name ever since he has found her again.

“Arya.” She says to him. “Arya is fine.” She won’t have any of this ‘milady’ name calling from him and he knows that she is more stubborn than him.

“All right. It’s good to see you again… Arya.” He has acquiesced to her wishes without question and without protest.

“It’s good to see you too Gendry.” Arya said and finally laughed at last, feeling something she hasn’t felt in a long time… happy and hopeful.

And even though she still has those hundred questions and thoughts to ask him, Arya chooses to sit in silence for now. She may not have figured out how they have found each other again or why now or what they were going to do next, but if this was fate’s doing, then Arya thinks that it maybe could be a kind thing sometimes. And maybe when they reached King’s Landing, she’d finally get the chance to kiss him after all.


End file.
